


Challenge/Surrender

by kaizoku



Series: Summer Pornathon Entries 2011 [4]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: BDSM, Knights - Freeform, M/M, Power Dynamics, Summer Pornathon 2011, Team Gluttony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-04
Updated: 2012-09-04
Packaged: 2017-11-13 13:41:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/504108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaizoku/pseuds/kaizoku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His first thought when Percival stands -- when he swears himself to Camelot -- is that here, finally, is a challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Challenge/Surrender

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Summer Pornathon 2011, challenge 4 - First & Last Times. Ending is slightly altered. See end notes for list of kinks/warnings.

Arthur has taken many men to bed: not for his own pleasure, but to instill the code into them, to help them understand that he, Arthur Pendragon, is their sovereign. He commands them, honours them, and rewards them richly, and in return they surrender their bodies to his use.

His first thought when Percival stands -- when he swears himself to Camelot -- is that here, finally, is a challenge.

Now Arthur has him on his knees, tied hand to foot, his whole physique arched and displayed before the circle of his silently watching brethren.

"Do you submit?" Arthur asks, laying his sword-point gently at Percival's throat.

"No, sire." Percival does not squirm against his bonds, but his eyes are bright and fierce, unbridled pride lighting them as he stares up at Arthur. It should anger him but it only fires Arthur's desire and competitive spirit.

He has broken so many men: young, old, fearful, boastful, angry men. Men like Gwaine who laugh it off but let their eyes dip before meeting his. Gwaine still bears the mark of Arthur's brand, applied by Elyan's hand. Leon was surprisingly sweet, a willow in his tempest. And Lancelot cried so prettily when whipped.

Arthur lays aside the sword; Percival is no coward before death. But he thinks that Percival's pride must weaken before the humiliation he can deliver.

He loosens his breeches and takes his cock in hand, facing Percival as he lets loose a jet of hot yellow piss.

Percival flinches back automatically, then stiffens, his eyes closing, and the stream spatters against his chin -- he's that tall. Arthur grabs his head and pushes it down so his piss hits Percival's forehead, drips off his eyelashes and runs in rivulets over him. The sight and the sharp rising smell combine to harden Arthur's cock and he has to push to expell the remaining urine. He forces open Percival's mouth and shakes the last few drops onto his tongue.

"Do you submit?" 

Percival grins up at him and shakes his head. "No, sire."

Arthur swears and backhands him. He regrets it instantly.

He's not angry, not at all. But he knows he lost control. He did it because he wanted to see the mark, wanted to feel the hollow drum of Percival's head as his hand impacted it.

But you can't rush this.

Uther trained him in this art. The first rule is that you do only what is needed. You must judge the man, what his needs are, his strengths and faults, his capacity for sensation, and then use that knowledge to break him carefully but completely to your will.

And yet, Arthur sees, he has misjudged again. For Percival looks neither stunned nor rebellious. His tongue traces the split in his lip with wry appreciation and he rolls onto his side, langorous with a kind of ease Arthur recognizes as grace, his cock is high and dark red. Arthur brings his boot down on it, inspired by the challenge he reads in Percival's eyes and Percival sucks in air and keeps eye contact, his smile edged with pain and determination.

For the first time, Arthur realizes he can let go.

He makes shallow cuts all over the man's body, on his chest, circling his flat nipples, up his hairy thighs, then orders the other knights to wash him off, cold water splashing his huge, contorted frame. He stuffs his cock down Percival's throat until he chokes and finally slices open his bonds and presses him down on Arthur's own bed, rewards Percival with the hilt of his sword, pressing cold and dry into his arse. He looks gorgeous, muscled and golden against the white sheets, sweat dripping into his eyes as Arthur opens him up.

Still he refuses to surrender. Arthur wants to yell with joy.

"No, sire," Percival says, breathless and laughing, "But you can fuck me."

Arthur thrusts into him without mercy, a bare sheen of oil on his cock -- for his pleasure -- and pounds into the tiny tight hole with Percival's tree-trunk legs pulled up against his chest.

"God, yes," Percival grits out. His face is beet-red, rapturous, and Arthur can't stop, just flips him over and pushes in. Percival reaches back and spreads his arse cheeks. "Deeper, sire, there -- oh yes." Arthur can hear the ragged edge in his voice and puts everything he has into it. Percival clamps down on him and spurts white loops of spunk onto the sheets.

"Oh, fuck!" Percival yells and Arthur leans down, trapping the sound in an open-mouthed kiss, their breaths puffing into each other. Percival is shaking, melting into him, his lashes wet against Arthur's cheek.

"Surrender?" Arthur murmurs.

"Ahhh…" Percival pants. "Yes, fuck yes."

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> BDSM, watersports, swordplay, choking, voyeurism/exhibitionism, genital torture (brief), reference to implied incest (Uther/Arthur)


End file.
